Betrayed(16)

Rafael didn’t want to argue. He wanted to reason things through. “Don’t do a brush off, Kat,” he said patiently. “Learn to be positive. Stop being self-destructive.”

She put her pencil down and shoved her sketches to one side. “Why the hell should it matter to you?”

“It matters. Look, plenty of designers are good. You’re more than good, but to be the best needs a lot extra. Most people can’t be bothered.”

Her lips tightened. “Is that what you think; that I can’t be bothered. Well screw you! You don’t know a thing about me.”

Rafael sighed. He couldn’t do right for doing wrong. He tried again. “What I’m trying to say, is those who get knocked down but plough on regardless, rise to the top.”

“Still playing at psychologist, I see.”

“If you don’t accept limits on yourself, if you acknowledge your potential is inexhaustible, it’s incredible what you can do.”

“And here’s me thinking I’d already done it.”

“Look, I know you’re doing well, but you are potentially the best this century. I’ve seen none better.”

“So why do you feel the need to comment on my work?”

He held up his hands as her expression tightened. “Okay, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interfered. Is that what you want to hear?”

Kat glared then abruptly stood and thrust past him.

Rafael stayed his ground. What had he said wrong now? Why did she behave like this? “Kat,” he called.

She reached the door before she turned. Her voice, tired. “Yes?”

“You have the potential,” he said tolerantly. “Don’t throw it away.”

***

It was dark. Rafael heard her moving around in her bedroom, and tapped on the door. “I’ve made some drinking chocolate,” he said. “Would you like one?”

“I suppose so,” she said dully.

“May I come in?” He took in a tray, carefully balancing the drinks as he closed the door with his heel. He said warily, “I’m making a mess of things.”

She shrugged.

“You’re finding it hard to break through that shell, aren’t you? You’ve made a prison for yourself. Baby birds, all they do is tap at the same old spot until whoosh, they’re out.”

“What shell? What you see is what you get.”

He handed her a mug, “Inside you, I see a woman struggling to find her way out. A sensuous woman, a woman brimming with artistic merit, maybe well cared for but very suppressed. I smell anger, and that’s bad.”

Kat took a sip of her drink. “You’ve been reading too many agony aunts. I’m simply a hardworking designer who hates interference.”

“Do you know what I think? I think the essential you, is incarcerated. Key gone, lock rusted.”

He gazed as her fingers fluttered on the mug. She was tormented by something, but what? He said, “On one hand it’s hidden, yet on the other it’s all over your sleeve. What a paradox you are.”

“Is this your version of the Spanish Inquisition?”

He saw desolation in her eyes, as if hope had been driven from them. He suddenly felt full of affection. “I’m just trying to help rid yourself of those bogeys.”

“Bogeys, what bogeys? I don’t have bogeys.” She toyed with her mug. “Rafael…” She twisted the mug around on the table at the side of the bed. “…Be my friend.”

“I thought we were?”

“I think I’d like to go for a walk. Will you come with me?”

Rafael smiled easily. “Of course; I’d like that. It’s late though. Will you be all right?”

“I need to get out.” She glanced to the window. “But I don’t want to go alone, not at the moment.”

“Of course not, especially in the dark. Mind you, you’ll need to wear something rainproof.”

“When you’ve been brought up in England, you get used to wet weather. You never go anywhere without a rainproof.”

***

The storm had worn itself out. It drizzled, but wasn’t cold. He watched as Kat turned her face skyward to let drizzle wash over her cheeks, beads of moisture collecting on her lashes. He said, “Feel better?”

She nodded. They walked all the way to the outskirts of Alcalali. Damp and lamplight formed an aura around her, made something special of her. Rafael’s insides tightened. Sometimes he found her haunting. Every so often the strength of his feelings frightened him. He really would need to be careful, considering how easily he said things that upset her.

They came to a junction on a bend in the road, and he pointed across the road. “That’s the back door to ‘El Sol’. You can often find ex-pats in; all nationalities gather there. They have quiz nights, karaoke, pool nights; you name it, they do it. Singing, dancing, you’ll find everything. A giant Dutchman runs it, brusque, a bit crude at times, but he’s okay.”

Rain sputtered on a broad-leafed laurel that grew on the roadside. The weather was heavy again, gathering. Rafael looked at storm clouds warily. Had this walk been a mistake? A small black-and-white terrier darted from beneath the bushes and ran across the road, yelping furiously. The movement showered them with spray and they laughed. He flicked a sprig toward her and showered her even more.

“Rat-bag!” she shouted and made a grab for him. He dodged and she chased him, shouting.

Rafael ran away easily then stopped to wait for her. Kat must have enjoyed it, because she began to laugh. She stopped, breathless, hands on hips, still laughing. Rafael warmed inside, glad he’d been the cause. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but it didn’t matter anymore.

Kat ran toward him again. He was about to turn away as she lost her footing, and slipped headlong beneath a huge oleander shrub. The laughter died in his throat. “Kat!”

He dashed toward her. She gave a moan. He crawled under the oleander and brushed wet hair from her forehead. Blood ran down her face. He said anxiously, “Are you okay?”

Kat moaned again and flexed her arms carefully. “My head hurts, but I think I’m okay. I feel horribly bruised, my ego is dented beyond repair, but I’ll live.”

“We need to get you indoors. You’re wet through.” He took out his cell phone and called for a taxi.

Kat started to stand but Rafael stopped her and made her wait until the taxi arrived. When it did, he swept her up in his arms. She protested, but he insisted on carrying her.

They were driven back to the villa and he directed the driver to park around the back. He carried her, still protesting, through the kitchen. The wood-burning oven gave off remnant smells of the last meal, and it followed them, as he carried her through into his study.

He laid her with care onto a green leather chesterfield. “I’m afraid the room is untidy,” he said. “I have to keep Aliaga out of here; otherwise I’d never find a thing. She’d have a field day if she got her hands on it; there’d be papers and dust flying everywhere.”

Kat started to remove her wet jacket, and Rafael helped her. “I’ll ‘phone for the doctor.”

“I’m perfectly okay.” She stood and started to turn around to show him how much better she felt.

“Don’t do that,” Rafael said brusquely.

“Why?”

“It could be dangerous. You’re seeing a doctor whether you like it or not. Sit-down.”

***

Kat stared at the closed door. He’d gone before she could think up reasons why not. She hated fuss, but she found the self-assurance in Rafael, slightly overwhelming.

For years she’d been her own woman, made decisions, and looked after her father as well. She didn’t need Rafael telling her what to do. Yet she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had fussed over her, and if she had to be honest, it didn’t feel too bad.

She hadn’t been in his study before, and took the opportunity to look around. Against the far wall stood an ornate, antique, writing desk, inlaid with green leather, matching the chesterfield. By the side of the desk was an embossed leather attaché case, quite fine-looking. Kat stared at the ornate desk. Confidential documents would be kept there; maybe even stuff about Finery & Frocks.

She tried looking away, tried hard to ignore it, but couldn’t. After a few moments, Kat stood, and wandered to it. She ran her fingers defiantly across the top, hardly registering the antique wood, smoothed to perfection, or the rich patina the years of polishing had produced. Very slowly, afraid of making a noise, she opened the desk drawer and peered inside. Blood pounded in her ears. She rifled several documents, but there was nothing, and she closed it again.

She leaned on the desk, breathing hard, guilty, disappointed, but happy that she had dared.

Beneath, was a small cupboard, and after regaining her composure, she searched through it, but again there was nothing. He shouldn’t have left her alone.